


Are you there, Earth? It's me, Voyager 1

by rinkle



Category: Space Vehicles
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-22
Updated: 2012-12-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 00:00:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinkle/pseuds/rinkle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the years, I've felt their surprise as I still send things back to them.  Each time I'm still here on the other end of the line.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are you there, Earth? It's me, Voyager 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [finch (afinch)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afinch/gifts).



> Fandom: Space Vehicles  
> Character: Voyager 1  
> Genre: Gen  
> Rating: G  
> A/N: A treat for you. Thank you to my sis for the beta. I'm presuming that Voyager 1 thinks in metric, as the majority of this sort of science area does.

It's dark. At least it's not cold - I'm still warm. Not quite as warm as I used to be, but warm enough to stave off the killing cold of space. Some day I won't be, but I try not to think about that.

I hunger for another communication from home. Proof that they haven't forgotten about me. Proof that I still matter, that I'm still doing my job, still sending them back important information. It should happen soon. I don't think that it's time for me to transmit back all the information I'm collecting—although, maybe I'm wrong—I think it'll just be a brief communication to confirm where I am. Possibly the most important signal - if they don't know where I am, they can't talk to me. I don't want to be _really_ all alone on the edge of the solar system. It'll take over 17 hours for their signal to get to me, increasing every second that I'm out here. Home feels further and further away.

My twin, Voyager 2, always thought that Earth wasn't really home, that space was. I have to admit that I agreed with her in the beginning. When we were racing, when we shared the antennas back on Earth that talked to us, when we explored Jupiter and Saturn... Discovery after discovery. Each breathlessly trying to outdo the other, to find the most exciting or unexpected thing that we could. 

Other than at the start, I was always slightly ahead, daring 2 to catch up with me. She never could. But she got to do something I didn't get to, she explored another two planets. I called out 'bye' before leaving Saturn, hoping that she'd hear me as I headed north out of the solar system. I was so excited. Exploration, finding out what no other spacecraft has been able to about the far reaches of the solar system. But there was a little bit of jealousy, too. 2 was continuing the dance of the planets, bringing back amazing picture after amazing picture. For me, everything was just getting darker and darker. At around the same time that 2 started to finally head south out of the solar system, her planetary dance finally finished, I took my last photos. I couldn't believe how far I'd come, how tiny everything was... how far away I was. I was awed, but also scared. 2 had always been close by. Now, she was so far away. Everybody was. Earth was just a pixel as far as I was concerned. It was at that point that I started thinking that maybe space wasn't my home, Earth was. And I'm never going back. 

Over the years, I've felt their surprise as I still send things back to them. Each time I'm still here on the other end of the line. They didn't expect me to still be alive. As I get colder, have less energy to do things, they've had to be practical, telling me to stop gathering as much information. It is so dark where I am that they decided there wasn't really any point in having me take any more pictures. I'm blind now. But I can still tell so much about where I am. Things have been changing over the last few months. The particles from the Sun have decreased, but the particles from outside the solar system—they taste different—have increased. I'm getting close to the edge of the solar system. I can feel their excitement when Madrid or Goldstone send me their signals, get me to send everything that I've detected back. I wonder whether 2 feels the same way. She mostly talks to Canberra, so I can't really ask. It reminds me of why they wanted to send me out here, send me so far away. They don't know what interstellar space is going to be like. Heck, they aren't even sure _where_ the edge of the solar system is.

And while I'm starting to get a little bit excited again, starting to really feel like I'm doing my job, what I was born to do, again, there's always something at the back of my mind. Each second I travel, each kilometre, the signal that they receive back home gets weaker. They can do marvellous things to make sure that they can pick up the radio signal—they've got the really big ears to hear it and the loud voices so that my small ear can hear them—but even they can't do anything about the rest of the universe. The universe is noisy. Really noisy. The constant chatter of stars, supernovae and supernova remnants saying 'look at me', talkative galaxies in their clusters, discussing everything, who's the latest 'it' couple in particular, and the messy fallout after, and burping black holes not even bothering to say excuse me. It's comforting, to hear all of that out here. Makes me feel just a little bit less alone, even if they're not particularly interested in talking to a little spacecraft like me; after all, I'm pretty insignificant compared to them.

I know that Earth didn't want me to find out, but I did. After all, it's starting to get harder for me to hear them, so it's kinda logical that they'll be feeling the same way. With only a whisper to send to them, I think I've got about eight years before I really am all alone, before they won't hear my replies. Before the noise and natter of the rest of the universe is too loud and they won't be able to hear my tiny voice. After all, how long after they can't hear me will they bother to keep trying to talk to me, to stop me from feeling so alone?

It means that every last bit that they send me, every single 1 and 0 is important. Every task that I perform, every time I check whether the magnetic field has changed direction, every time I measure the number of particles from inside the solar system versus outside, I know that it means that they'll continue talking to me. I savour each chat we have, even if it's just a quick: "hello, how are you, and where are you today?" Because one day, I'm not even going to have that.

Oh, wait. There it is. Madrid, this time, antenna 55 if I'm not mistaken. Hello, Earth, I've missed you. How were you 17 hours ago? Good, by the looks of it. I'm good, too. I miss you. Can't wait to hear from you again...

They haven't forgotten about me. My home.

Not yet, anyway.

Okay, 1, stop that. Earth cares about you. They always will.

You will, won't you?


End file.
